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A week had passed since Theranhad’s darkest day.
Sharun quietly paced down the palace’s halls with two guards behind her. They were ordered not to utter a word, for their own sake, especially in these trying times.
Upon making it to the giant door, she knocked three times.
“Your Majesty.” She called, waiting patiently until a response. Deep inside, she hoped there'd be one. She glanced sideways, the food on the ground long gone cold. “Have you prepared?”
The door opened and a tiny hand presented itself first before a long sleeve followed. “...Yes.” Was all he said. “Lead the way, High Shaman.” Eventually followed.
His every step was filled with grace and elegance, contrary to his appearance, but all present knew that the first to make a mention of his untidy outfit would be the first to lose their tongue.
He had forgotten one of the buttons.
His shirt wasn't neatly sitting in its place.
Even his hat was slightly off balance.
A week and one day ago, this sightless appearance would be unthinkable.
Outside the palace and upon entering the hidden royal garden, he made his way with his high shaman and an additional twenty guards to a special location.
This early in the morning, when any other boy of the age his appearance suggested that he is is expected to still be sound asleep in bed, one could not help but ponder where his steps were leading.
“Hand me the teapot.” He ordered, and less than a second later there in his hands it was found. “Stand ready for our unwelcome guest.”
The guards, Theranhad's special force that was handpicked by — quickly gathered around the area with impressive weapons, forged with a craftsmanship that would make Sylvana proud, but unable to surpass the quality of her own works.
The early morning cold weather felt like the middle of the desert in comparison to the chill that followed. “I told you not to come.” Sharp metal screeched as it was dragged along the ground. “Don't misunderstand. I'm glad you did.”
Zio saw no reason to turn around before the teapot finished boiling. He simply waved his hand and that gesture was enough for the special force to get into position and block Ran’s path.
“High Shaman. Hand me the white lotus tea.”
His indifference grinded Ran's gears, who didn't hesitate to immediately draw out the sword of winter shadow. “Every one of you has one opportunity to step aside and that is now.” He warned, and yet they still feared Zio more than they did dying at his hands. “...At least I'll make it quick, right.”
With each slash, one head or limb fell.
With every minute, Zio poured one cup.
Exactly 3 cups later the only ones that were left standing were the Vengeful Swordsman, the High Shaman and the Lone Emperor.
“Don't drink a sip.” Zio stated. “The first to be allowed indulgence in the Emperor's presence is he and he alone.” He put down his expensive black cup, right on the tree trunk his staff was leaning against. “Now then, you have my audience. You've made enough noise for me to no longer wish to ignore you.”
Ran panted, not because he was tired already, but because the adrenaline had all led up to this moment. “You.” He raised his sword, pulling out another one with trembling appendages. “Did you think facing me here meant this would be your final resting place? I will drag your body to some desolate forgotten place if it's the last thing I do. Be it Eureka, Cidonia or Erasia if I have to.”
“Anywhere but next to him?” Zio mused, though both of them failed to see any humour in it. “In the end, we found one thing we have in common.” He looked up, his staff radiating a mixture of Aheldad’s and Pure White Trust’s magical energy. "Only the depths of the ocean is a suitable grave for you who has done the most damage to my land."
But it was what Ran noticed was dangling off of that staff that convinced him not to wait to strike first. “Give that back.” He said, reaching for the talisman attached to Zio's staff. “Give. It. BACK!”
“You have some nerve demanding my rightful property off of me when you were the one who struck him down.” Zio retorted calmly, jumping aside, holding onto his hat. “I'd happily trade this worthless piece of cloth for my advisor, I'll have you know.”
Ran threw his blade towards him and watched it get stuck into the ground, but even the glaciation that exploded from underneath Zio failed to capture him.
“I failed to strike you down last time. It won't happen again.” His teeth gritted, envisioning again and again that climactic moment where Zahhak jumped between his sword and his lord and… sacrificed. EVERYTHING.
Ran's temper betrayed him with every failed attack. Why was this brat so agile? And why did it feel like… “You're reading my strikes… Did he-”
“Teach me?” Zio smirked, for the first time that day, for the first time in a week. “He taught me everything I know. About you, about this world, about this power.” He twisted his staff and managed to get a blow on the taller man. “About you. Everything.”
Ran hated fighting evasive opponents. Even Zahhak was not faster than him, but he made up for that in reflexes. Still, he honed those skills for decades upon decades… How did this brat even come close to that level?
Sharun had long since sat down on her knees next to Zahhak's grave, still holding onto her full cup of white lotus tea. The sight in front of her would've amazed her a decade ago, but now all she saw in the future of both of these lost souls was more anger, more agony. She averted her eyes from learning who would win this duel.
“What would you do?” She whispered that question to the person who must have already been far too used to hearing it after generations of servitude to Theranhad. “Even in death, people yearn to know your answer to that question. You must be uncomfortable. I am… truly sorry for asking.”
“Why won't you just die?! You are nothing without him!” Ran yelled, finally unleashing his pent up frustration as the flowers in the area began to wither one by one from his frostbite. “I'll hunt you down. Every day for the rest of my life if it's the last thing I do. You can escape and hide on that floating island all you like but just like today, you will always come down eventually.”
Zio was sure he would outlive him. It was the one remaining benefit to immortality now that he was gone… But he would not settle for putting up with the immovable threat in front of him.
“I regret my benevolence and I regret the mercy he showered you with behind my back each day.” Zio answered, a pain in his voice he could no longer hide away. “You, who lived your entire life with him, greedy like a worthless pig, and now you dare spout that I am worthless without him by my side?! YOU would not even BE here if not for him and YOU took him from ME.”
Ran paused, pulling back his sword and preparing another attack.
Zio dug his staff into the ground and summoned forth all his strength.
In the end, Sharun could only watch. Just like before, no more useful than when her mind wasn't her own. She closed her eyes, embracing the cold and the overbearing magic in the area like they were both her punishment.
Only the heat of the cup, persistent as it was, managed to comfort her. Until it, too, eventually felt as cold and lifeless like he did in her arms one week ago.
“IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU.”